


Want You Bad

by mahbecks



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, And cigarettes, Barebacking, Chill XV, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Ignis becomes Sandy from Grease, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Topping from the Bottom, With leather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 15:05:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10389456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbecks/pseuds/mahbecks
Summary: Ignis was hot.Gladio had never once thought otherwise.He liked that Ignis was always so put together, so perfectly prim and polished. He liked that Ignis was slightly vain about his hair, he liked that Ignis always smelled like a mix of cologne and soap and coffee, and he liked that Ignis just looked so amazingly good.But sometimes, if he were truthful with himself, he kind of wished Ignis would look bad.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song "Want You Bad" by the Offspring.
> 
> Hey, hey, hey, whaddaya know, sometimes you're just cooking dinner when a song comes on and inspires you to write porn. I have no shame and no regrets. 
> 
> Lord have mercy.

 

Ignis was hot.

Gladio had never once thought otherwise.

He was hot in a scholarly, academic sort of way, with his sharp, angular features and crisply styled hair. But that didn’t mean he was thin or gawky. No, Gladio had seen him in the training room, clad in naught but a tank top and athletic pants. Ignis was all lean muscle on a lithe, wiry frame. It was almost a pity, the way he covered up so much when they were in public. Almost, because the guy went out of his way to dress nicely, too, his wardrobe full of more suits than t-shirts. His tops were always perfectly tailored, colors contrasting nicely with his brown hair and fair skin, and the fact that he’d managed to find _dress_ pants that perfectly displayed his ass...

Gladio liked that about his lover. He liked that Ignis was always so fucking put together, so perfectly prim and polished. He liked that Ignis was slightly vain about his hair, he liked that Ignis always smelled like a mix of cologne and soap and coffee, and he liked that Ignis just looked so amazingly _good._

But sometimes, if he were truthful with himself, he kind of wished Ignis would look bad.

Not bad as in lazy or careless, dressed in tattered clothes with hair that hadn’t been washed in days. No, no, nothing like that.

He sometimes fantasized that Ignis would look _bad_ \- leather, piercings, tattoos, maybe a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth….

Maybe he’d read too many romance novels. Maybe it was some weird psychological thing where he was daydreaming about Ignis looking a little more like _him._ But somehow, Gladio didn’t think that was it.

He just wanted to see Ignis tatted up and decked out in leather - that was it.

That wasn’t weird, right?

He’d not really mentioned it to Ignis, of course. While Gladio might be able to convince him to wear a leather jacket, he sure as _hell_ was never going to get the guy near a cigarette, let alone a tattoo parlor. And that was fine, really - Ignis was perfect as he was, and Gladio loved him regardless of the way that he dressed or did his hair. He didn’t have to do anything special to keep Gladio’s attention; he did that just by being himself.

But still.

A guy could dream, yeah?

The fantasy remained exactly that for perhaps a year after he’d first conjured the image to his mind. He saved it for his private time, the moments when he and Ignis couldn’t be together. He saved it for the nights when he _really_ wanted to work himself up, _really_ wanted to fuck his hand so hard he saw stars. He kept it to himself, his own little secret.

Ignis didn’t know anything about it - or so he thought. Which was why one day, when he came back to his apartment after a long, _long_ day of training, in which nothing had gone right and everything had gone wrong, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven when he opened the door to find Ignis slouched down in a chair completely clad in black, studded leather, legs thrown carelessly onto the table, a cigarette dangling precariously from the tips of his fingers.

Gladio froze, his gym bag falling from suddenly slack hands to hit the floor.

This could _not_ be happening.

Gods, he hoped it was.

Ignis raised an eyebrow at him, taking a drag from the cigarette and then puffing out a stream of smoke. “Don’t just stand there,” he snapped, waving a hand at the door. “Come inside. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Iggy, what-?”

“The _door._ ”

Gladio obeyed, reaching a hand back to slam the door shut. His fingers automatically found the lock, flipping it to the side before he took a hesitant step forward. He tried to speak again, but found himself completely lost for words, mouth gone dry at the magnificent sight that was Ignis in ten pounds of leather. He was already half-hard in his pants, his cock responding to the sight as eagerly as his eyes.

“Don’t just stand there,” Ignis commanded, his lips twisting up into a smirk. “Come here and make yourself useful.” He shifted in the chair, sitting up straight and using a leg to push another chair out from beneath the table. Gladio sank wordlessly into it, and Ignis pounced, crawling into his lap with a sinuous grace that was nearly as much of a turn-on as the way Ignis pulled his head back by the hair and kissed him, hard.

He tasted of smoke and Ebony, and it was fucking _delicious._

Gladio reached up to grab Ignis, pulling him in closer, but the other was having none of that. He batted Gladio’s hands away, never once breaking the kiss, grinding his hips down as he pried Gladio’s lips apart with his tongue. Shit, it was hot; Gladio’s thoughts were fast being reduced to sheer, primal urges, a need to take, to give, to kiss, to _fuck._ But Ignis wasn’t done yet - he licked and bit his way into Gladio’s mouth, hard and hot and unrepentant, his hand like a vice in Gladio’s hair.

He pulled away suddenly, leaning back just enough to take another drag off the cigarette. “You’re already hard,” he announced, twisting his hips in a way that left Gladio with no doubts that Ignis was similarly affected. “Is it the leather?”

He leaned forward, licking a hot, wet trail from Gladio’s collarbone to his ear, his teeth closing on the lobe and tugging. Gladio groaned, hands coming up to Ignis’ hips, half expecting the other to throw his hands off again. But this, it appeared, was allowed, and Gladio’s fingers tightened on his lover.

Not answering questions, it appeared, was _not_ allowed, for Ignis bit down sharply at Gladio’s lack of a response.

“Answer me,” he drawled, laving his tongue along the bruise he’d just created.

“Fuck, Iggy, yes,” Gladio said. “The leather, the smoke, the - did you get your eyebrow pierced?”

Ignis drew back, smirking down at him. “Why? Do you like it?”

Gladio used his grip on his lover as leverage to tilt his hips up, pushing his cock into the other’s groin. Ignis sucked in a sharp breath, the barest hint of surprise flitting across his features before he regained his composure.

“Hell yeah, I like it. But-”

“But how do I know that?” Ignis asked, finishing the sentence for him. He sucked in one last breath full of smoke before he put the cigarette out, smashing it down into an ashtray Gladio hadn’t noticed before. He leaned back then, exhaling out slowly so that he could re-inhale some of it through his nostrils. A party trick, Gladio recognized, but still.

Hot.

Ignis leaned in then, darting forward to press another hard, almost bruising kiss to his lips. “You talk in your sleep,” he murmured, chuckling.

He bit down on Gladio’s lower lip, and Gladio groaned, hands coming up to his shoulders and drawing him in close, rules be damned.

Ignis allowed it this time, using the momentum to press their hips together again. This time, he didn’t stop the motion, continuing to dance on Gladio’s lap. He’d have to ask where Ignis had learned to do that - later, though. Right now, he was a bit distracted.

And that might have been an understatement.

He snaked a hand beneath the leather jacket, intent on pushing it off. Hot as it was, the body beneath was hotter by far, and Gladio wanted the piece of clothing _gone._ It fell to the floor, unheeded, his hands eagerly running over smooth skin and supple muscle. Only, the skin wasn’t so smooth anymore, the pads of his fingers catching on something scratchy whorling across the other’s arms.

He drew back, and he nearly choked when he saw what he’d felt.

Tattoos.

_Tat-fucking-toos._

All over Ignis’ arms - great, swirling designs in black and gray, curving across muscles and sinew in a way that had Gladio growling in sheer, possessive want.

“Iggy,” he groaned. “What are _these_?”

Ignis didn’t answer, opting instead to peel the tank top from Gladio’s chest.

“Are they… are they real?”

“Don’t be stupid - that would’ve taken ages,” Ignis snapped, twirling his hips again and drawing a moan from Gladio’s lips. He grinned wickedly, placing a finger under Gladio’s chin and tilting it up. “But it’s rather marvelous what one can do with body paint.” He leaned in again then, sucking hard on Gladio’s collarbone.

Something snapped inside Gladio then, and he stood, taking Ignis with him as he moved towards the bedroom. Ignis had no choice - it was either wrap his legs around Gladio’s waist or risk falling to the floor. That seemed to suit his purposes just fine, though, for he kept their hips firmly aligned as Gladio walked, rubbing up against him like a wild animal, his lips never leaving the tanned column of Gladio’s throat.

They staggered through the hallway like that, stopping every few feet or so - because Ignis would bite him particularly hard, or because Gladio pushed him up against a wall, thrusting his hips into Ignis’ until he managed to make the other give up some sort of noise. A keen, a moan, a barely stifled curse - Gladio wasn’t picky. Every noise Ignis made was beautiful, like music to his ears.

Truth be told, he wasn’t really sure how they managed to make it to the bed at all. He was achingly hard in his pants, harder than ever he’d been before in his life. As soon as he’d settled Ignis onto the fabric, he had to reach down and palm himself through the fabric, desperate for some sort of relief.

“Ah-ah,” Ignis teased, batting his hand away before he’d gotten through more than a couple of cursory strokes. “That’s mine. No touching.”

Gladio scowled, but remained obedient, shucking off the sweatpants and underwear beneath before settling down onto the bed. He reached a hand out for Ignis, but again, his fingers were swatted away.

Ignis had a plan, though, for he quickly got up on his knees and began to undo the snaps and catches on his sleeveless shirt. He moved slowly, fingers caressing the steel buckles and studded snaps more than just touching, his eyes never once leaving Gladio’s. Tortuously slowly, he drew the shirt up and over his head, revealing one inch of pale skin and perfectly toned muscle at a time.

Gladio’s hands twitched at his sides, wanting to reach out and touch - himself, Ignis, anything at this point - and yet hesitant, for he wanted to continue to do Ignis’ bidding. It wasn’t always that Ignis took control of their love-making, but when he did… and while he looked like _that…_

_Holy fucking shit!_

“Touch yourself.”

He blinked at the sudden command, and then raised an eyebrow. “Thought I wasn’t allowed?” he retorted, even as his fingers inched closer to his cock.

“You are now.”

It was all the permission Gladio needed. He put a hand around his length, groaning at the touch, keeping his eyes locked onto Ignis as he began to move his hand up and down. His lover wasn’t as unaffected as he appeared, Gladio thought with triumph - Ignis’ eyes were blown black with lust, cheeks delicately dusted with pink. Still, he maintained his cool composure, undoing his belt and then toying with the button of his pants, movements entirely too slow.

“Not so fast,” Ignis said suddenly, reaching out to still Gladio’s hand. He had begun to stroke himself a little harder, a little more firmly, and his lover had caught him. “Not yet.”

“You’re killing me here, Iggy.”

“Am I?” Ignis chuckled, twisting around onto his bottom so he could pull the pants off entirely. “I’ve fear I’ve only just begun.”

He wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Ignis Scientia wasn’t _fucking_ wearing any underwear.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, not really. Leather pants were a tight fit no matter how thin you were - Gladio would know, seeing as how he had at least five pairs himself. You just didn’t wear undergarments with pants like that.

But it was one thing to know that _he_ didn’t wear underwear beneath his leather fatigues.

It was something else entirely to know that _Ignis_ didn’t either.

Now Ignis was crawling into his lap, continuing his dancing motions from earlier - only this time, there was nothing between them. Gladio reached up for the other’s hips once more, blunt fingernails digging into the skin a little as Ignis ground their hips together.

“Damn, that’s hot,” he groaned, throwing his head back into the pillows. He kept an eye on Ignis though, unable to tear his eyes away - from his face, his eyes, his body, the place where their hips met, cocks trapped between them. He drank in the sight of it, riveted by the vision before him, this decadent fantasy come to life.

All too soon, Ignis was lifting up, moving away. Thankfully, it was just for the slightest of moments, only long enough for him to grab a bottle of lube from the bedside table. Then he was back, grinding shamelessly into Gladio as he popped the cap on the container open, letting a bit of the liquid pool onto his fingers. He reached between them, gripping Gladio hard and twisting up, his thumb lingering in the slit at the tip of the head.

Gladio cursed again, breath coming harder now. He brought one of his hands up, joining Ignis’ on his cock. Ignis let him have that for a few moments, smirking at the litany of noises now pouring from Gladio’s throat, huffed out as he moved closer and closer to the brink of orgasm.

But Ignis wasn’t about to let him come just yet. He sat back, raising up a little higher on his knees so that he could reach a hand back between his legs. Normally, it was Gladio who did this part, Gladio who used his fingers to prepare Ignis. But the sight of Ignis, impaling himself on his own long, slender digits, tearing breathy gasps from his own throat as he fucked himself, was enough to convince him that maybe he should let Ignis do it more often. He watched, rapt, as Ignis added another finger, and then another, leaning back on Gladio’s thighs to get the right angle.

Suddenly, he moaned, throwing his head back and baring his neck as he hit that one particular spot within him, the one Gladio knew made him writhe with pleasure. The sound of it did something to Gladio, and he sat up, unable to take just watching anymore. He pulled Ignis’ fingers away, replacing them with his cock, pushing up at the same time as Ignis sank down.

Only a moment passed before Ignis was pushing Gladio away, forcing him to lean back on his hand. He wrapped a hand around Gladio’s neck then, using it to balance himself as he picked himself up and then dropped again, inhaling sharply.

Gladio tried to help, tried to push up whenever Ignis came down, but Ignis’ knees were tight around his hips, warning him not to interfere. Ignis sought his pleasure on his own, not allowing Gladio to do anything save watch.

And honestly?

Gladio was okay with that.

He was absolutely, completely, one hundred percent okay with Ignis fucking himself on Gladio’s dick, even as he fucked Gladio with his eyes.

Neither of them were going to last very long, even though it seemed like they had only just begun. Gladio could tell from the way heat was pooling in his belly, the way his breathing went erratic, the way his hips twitched of their own accord. He had perhaps another minute, and then he knew he was done for, a goner, completely undone. He didn’t try to fight it, coming fast when Ignis slammed himself down particularly hard. Ignis shuddered above him, and Gladio reached a hand between them, pumping along his length one, twice, three times, and then Ignis was coming too, spilling onto Gladio’s chest.

They fell backwards together, for a moment, unable to do anything save breathe.

Then -

“That - was - fucking - _incredible,_ ” Gladio said, wrapping his arms around Ignis’ frame and hugging him tight.

“I should think so,” Ignis huffed, raising his head a little to look Gladio in the eye. “It _is_ one of your fantasies, yes?”

“Hell yeah.” Gladio snorted. “Can’t believe you found about it.”

“You must have very lucid dreams.”

“What did I say, exactly?”

“Mmm. Something about me and tattoos and leather… I put together the rest on my own.”

Gladio reached out to touch the barbell poking through Ignis’ eyebrow. Or at least - he had _thought_ it went through skin. When he touched it, he realized that it was nothing more than a carefully placed magnet. He grunted in surprise when it fell into his palm.

Ignis shot him a reproving look. “You didn’t think that was real, did you?”

“No,” Gladio answered quickly.

Too quickly.

Ignis sighed. “I don’t believe the court would look kindly on the prince’s advisor having a facial piercing,” he said. “Or tattoos. Hence why these are paint.” He thumbed one of the designs on his bicep, some of the ink crackling off onto the sheets. He grimaced at the sight of it, using a hand to swipe it off the bed and onto the floor. “Remind me to vacuum later.”

“No one’s ever said anything to me about my tattoos.”

“Mmmm, yes, well, I doubt anyone _would_ , considering you could easily throw most people through a wall.”

“Depends on the wall.”

Ignis sighed, and made to get up. “I want to rinse this off,” he said, motioning to his arms.

“Aw, no,” Gladio said mournfully, catching Ignis’ arm. “I like it.”

“It is crackling as we speak.”

“At least let me take a picture.” Gladio reached for his phone, resting in the pocket of his pants.

“Absolutely not.”

“Iggy-”

“No.”

“ _Please?_ ”

Ignis hesitated, and Gladio whipped his phone up, snapping a picture before Ignis could protest.

His lover yelped indignantly, grabbing for the device. “Delete that at once!” he demanded.

Gladio laughed gleefully, catching Ignis’ hands and forcing them away. “Never!”

“Get rid of that photo or I’ll - I’ll…” Ignis trailed off, unable to come up with a suitable threat.

“Oh yeah? You’ll what?”

Ignis scowled at him. “You are incorrigible.”

“Uh-huh.” Gladio sat up, keeping his phone carefully tucked behind his back, and kissed Ignis right on the lips. “You know you love me.”

Ignis made a noncommittal noise.

“Besides, you look so hot! Look!” Gladio showed Ignis the picture, making sure to keep a thumb over the delete button so that Ignis couldn’t reach it.

Ignis stared at the screen for a moment.

Then he adjusted his glasses and took a step back. “That is for _your_ eyes only,” he said sharply. “No one else.”

“Course not,” Gladio agreed, putting the phone down. “Think I’d let anyone else see this?”

He raked his eyes over Ignis’ frame, smirking.

“No chance in hell.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could draw fan art. If I could, I totally would have for this. 
> 
> EDIT: Now there IS art of Iggy in leather! :D The wonderful banjkazfan (again - THANK YOU <3) drew him up, so please go and check him out on tumblr! -> http://tsunderegrumbling.tumblr.com/post/158650418889/badboi
> 
> EDIT 2: Check out this cute art of Iggy and Gladio (GLADIO IS BLUSHING) by NikkeTe! http://benelline.tumblr.com/post/165259122383/ignis-scientia-in-leather-3-gift-art-for-the-very
> 
> Thanks for reading! :) Feedback is, as always, much loved and appreciated.


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